


Love at the Ballet

by xpunkstylesx



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Ballet, Love, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-24
Updated: 2017-08-24
Packaged: 2018-12-19 06:27:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11891958
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xpunkstylesx/pseuds/xpunkstylesx
Summary: WorldLWT Prompt:Louis is a ballerina and Harry plays the violin at his recitals





	Love at the Ballet

I stood in my usual corner of the mirrored room, swinging my leg up to the bar to stretch out my tight hamstrings. Keeping focused on my leg position and the calming feeling of my muscles lengthening and loosening up, I glanced around the room, trying to decipher if there were any newbies or gossip to be shared.

As I stretched, I thought about the new show we were putting on, Cinderella. Not that I personally had a vendetta against the story or the princess herself, but I could never wrap my head around her idealistic way of speaking about love. I mean, there is no way one could fall in love with one dance, one touch, one look. It’s hard enough to fall in love when you truly know the person and all their ins and outs, but love definitely can’t just spring up from something so superficial. Thankfully, I was snapped out of my pessimistic thoughts by my gangly crew of friends, all ballerinas just like me.

“Yo Lou, how’s it going?” Liam asked, probably guessing how nervous I was feeling for the first show of the season.

“Yeah, not great, but you know,” I replied, “I always freak out right before and then it goes just fine.”

“Just fine?” Zeke asked sarcastically, “I’d say more than just fine considering you’ve been given your fourth lead role in eight seasons.”

I grinned, nodding my head, “I mean, yeah, yeah, I guess you’re right.”

As we started chatting about the weekend, laughter and grins started filling the room, other groups conglomerating and jerking each other around, falling into old familiar routines. Unfortunately, our teacher walked in, firm as always, and shut everything down, lining us up to work us for the next three hours. Of course, as soon as that was over, there was still much to be done. Stretching and keeping nimble would be essential in order to get ready for the next day’s shows, as well as keeping ourselves warmed up for the afternoon dress rehearsal.

I reluctantly separated from my little group to go try on my costumes, as well as work on a bit of publicity. Though a tiresome routine, I loved every minute of it. The new costumes, the pretty makeup, the reporters always trying to get a little more information about the show. It never got old for me.

The reporters were bloodhounds, asking just enough questions to get gossip about the show and cast but at the same time trying to get my personal gossip. I had found that each season I was cast as the lead, the reporters were less and less interested in the show and more and more interested in my love life, family life and sex life. Thankfully, I had learned to brush off the questions quickly, steering the topic back to the show I was buzzing to perform.

As soon as that was over, I made my way backstage and sat in my old, worn out seat, greeting my makeup team as they immediately got down to work. I smiled and joked with them as they swiped colors all over my face, perfecting my imperfections in order to transform me into Prince Charming. They finished up rather quickly, with the usual ‘good lucks’ whispered to me as I walked out to side stage, ready to take my place as the valiant prince.

I heard the music to the song I would exit to begin, and my heart swelled with pride and emotion and excitement before it reached my legs and brought me to center stage. I spun and danced and moved as gracefully as I could, the music moving my feet as my mind shut down, simply letting my body and muscles do all the work. I danced with Cinderella, a good friend I had been partners with for years, and our movements were rock solid, no slip occurring between exchanges. As we finished up the first act, our director applauded us, shouting small corrections but generally pleased with the show.

I smiled at my partner and began moving off stage to prepare for the next part when I heard a ruckus in the orchestra pit, stands crashing down only to be followed by chairs. As I turned my eyes to inspect the source of the noise, I saw papers flying up and a loud roaring voice exploding from the pit.

“I’ve been here for 5 years and I don’t even get front seat!” The man shouted, so loud I half expected to see his lungs shoot out of his body as he came into view, “You’ve been taking advantage of my talent and music and giving me nothing substantial in return! How dare you!”

He stormed towards the director, venom in his eyes as he got closer, but the director didn’t even flinch, just watched him with a steely gaze. As soon as he reached him, he started squaring up his shoulders, trying to make himself look slightly bigger and more threatening.

“Yes?” Our director asked, no emotion swimming in his eyes and his hands perfectly still.

The man froze for a second, probably not having expected such a calm reaction, but composed himself and kept pushing, getting closer with each angry syllable, “You- you have been using me and wasting all my- my talent on easy recitals when you could have me up front, really selling your goddamn show!”

The director blinked calmly, smiled lightly and simply said, “Well, then, I hope you find a recital good enough for your spectacular talent.”

Everyone froze, unsure if they had understood the right thing, and the man made no move to leave, seemingly rooted to the spot.The director, on the other hand, wasted no time, saying, “You’re dismissed- thank you for your time.”

I slowly slunk back to the dressing rooms, shocked by the quick dismissal, a painful and scary reminder of how easily replaceable we all were. And from the silence that seemed to shroud the rooms, I could feel that thought weighing heavily on everyone’s mind. I was sure that the second half of the play would be drastically more perfect than the first half.

As it turns out, I was right. The second half was almost perfect, leaving everyone with high expectations for opening night, and leaving me even more nervous.

When I rolled out of bed the next morning, it felt like my body was on fire from all the nerves that were shooting through my body, my mind in overdrive thinking about what was going to go down that night. I went through my morning routine slowly and carefully, feeling as though the show tonight depended on my doing everything perfectly in that exact moment.

Heading to the theater was difficult, each step feeling heavy with the anxiety rushing through me. Not knowing what was ahead of me scared me shitless, but I knew it had worked out enough times, and would likely work out again. All I had to do was take a couple deep breaths and remind myself I had worked hard for this moment and it would all work out if I just remembered to breathe.

I went through my pampering and media routine, today feeling more like a chore as I did it with a distracted mind, but got through it well enough that smiles were being flashed everywhere in my direction.

I sat down and tried to smile at my prep team, letting them get to work without a complaint from me, refusing to look at my own reflection due to some silly superstition I had developed throughout the years.

Once I was prepped and ready to go, I stood on the side of the stage, stretching and shaking out my muscles to get myself ready, getting my blood pumping and excitement running through me.

I glanced out, looking at the full crowd and observant critics. As my eyes scanned them, they eventually fell down to the orchestra pit. I scanned quickly but my attention was drawn back to one player, whose soft hair was cut just above the shoulder, directing all my attention to his inviting green eyes. I wanted to look away, but everything in my body told me to stare, as though that would garner some kind of reciprocal attention.

Eventually, I heard the starting notes to my entry song, and snapped back to my dance, feeling the adrenaline rush to all the right places. My muscles pushed me through every step and move, each memorized within my deepest self. I moved slowly and with grace but also with purpose, knowing each movement my body made the story I had grown up with come to life for a new crowd, hopefully letting some children enjoy the classic in a new way. I tried my best to give my character the meaning and depth he deserved, one that not many ever really gave him credit for. His valiant characteristics and strong morals and enduring love were just some of the parts of him I loved, and I wanted everyone else to know that.

As I spun and danced, I tried to let loose and really fully embody Prince Charming, but my eyes kept wandering to the new violin player, as though he was a magnet for my eyes. I tried to shake off the unbearable feeling of attraction I felt towards him, but it was impossible.

Even as I was spinning Cinderella around, as the big scene started with the big dance, I was focused more on him than her, taking away from the man I was trying to be. The show ended up being the longest of my life, a never ending battle of not looking at handsome violinist and forcing my eyes to the partner I was supposed to be dancing with.

I walked out for the final bow, grinning at the standing ovation that erupted as I waltzed out, and took my bow, and half way into standing up, I glanced down in the orchestra pit and caught those mesmerizing green eyes smiling up at me, thin hands clapping lightly at my accomplishment.

As I took off my makeup and finally got into my normal jeans and t shirt, my anger started boiling. Anger that such a man could garner my attention in such a way, anger that I would let myself be distracted like that, anger that I was even angry over it. And before I knew it, I found myself storming out of the room, dodging compliments and salutations, making a beeline for the orchestra dressing rooms.

I peeked inside and didn’t find the mess of brown curls, so I moved towards the elevator, hoping to find him somewhere there. I called it down, tapping my foot quickly as though that would make it go faster, and felt someone move up behind me. I ignored them, my focus concentrated on the elevator that was quickly moving towards us.

When the doors finally opened, I strode in with purpose, ready to face the handsome demon, and turned quickly to press the button for the top floor. The other person with me simply walked in and stood behind me, watching me dictate where we would be going. Quickly, the elevator began to go up, ready to deliver me to my escape that would hopefully lead me to the new employee.

Unfortunately, the small box we were in suddenly stopped. I looked up frantically at the floor numbers, seeing them frozen somewhere between basement and ground floor. Of course, the one day I really needed it, the one day I needed to get out, the elevator decides to stop and trap me with some rando. I could feel them smile at the disruption, as though amused we were stuck together now.

Annoyed, I turned to look at them, and was shocked to see the tousled hair player, grinning at the locked doors but glancing in my direction. I was relieved to see him standing there, but at the same time, I felt my chest constrict, knowing I was suddenly facing the one person I had been frantically searching for.

I tried to open my mouth, throw my accusations at him, but found my tongue dry, as though all it was made of was sand paper. While trying to work up my courage to speak up, mystery man turned to me and began, “Hello. Were you Prince Charming by any chance?”

His smooth voice had a thick british accent, slightly different from mine but I couldn’t quite place it, as though it had traveled too much to be as pure as it should’ve been. And now that his eyes were locked on mine, I was shocked again by their endlessness. I felt like I was drowning in them and all I needed was some air in my feeble lungs.

I tried to compose myself and respond in within a reasonable amount of time, but I could tell it had already expired by the way a smug grin was smearing itself on the guy’s face. So I did the best I could and replied, “Y-Y-Yes, I am.”

“Well it’s nice to finally meet the amazing actor in person,” he said, extending his hand and growing the grin on his lips, “My name’s Harry, Harry Styles.”

I timidly took his hand, his grip stronger than I would’ve imagined, “Louis Tomlinson.”

We shook hands for a couple beats too long and he started blushing, both of us simultaneously pulling away reluctantly, as though if we let go it would mean we’d never touch each other again.

“So,” I started, scared to let silence descend upon us, “you’re in the pit?”

He nodded, his smile never faltering, excitedly starting, “Yes, I’ve been playing violin since I was young, and it’s always been my dream to play here. I was just lucky enough to start when you were in show.”

Now it was my turn to blush, looking away with proud embarrassment, but quickly falling into comfort with him, spilling my life and times with this new man, enjoying to hear about his past and hopeful future at the same time. The elevator eventually began working it's way back up but we didn't even notice until the doors ringed open, our conversation too important to us.

He walked me home, standing the perfect amount from me, being cautious to not be too close but not too far to make it seem like he didn’t want to be with me. My house was far too close to work for our purposes, and we dumbly stood in front of my door, fumbling with goodbyes and promises of seeing each other soon, knowing it would never be soon enough.

Now, I was never one for risks, but I saw a chance that I absolutely had to take, so I jumped.

“Do you want to come in?”

A pause. I regretted asking immediately, realizing how desperate and childish it sounded, and looked down, fumbling with my keys and praying he’d turn me down quickly so as to soften the blow.

“I’d love to,” He replied, and I could hear the smile in his voice, inciting me to snap my head up and meet his gaze, shock flooding my system.

“Then, uhm, let’s go, Haz.”


End file.
